Dutch. Young Ladies Sir; are long, and curious
In putting on their trims, forget how day goes,
And then 'tis their good morrow when they are ready:
Go some and call her, and wait upon her hither,
Tell her the Duke and I desire her company:
I warrant ye, a hundred dressings now
She has survey'd, this, and that fashion look'd on,
For Ruffs and Gowns; cast this away, these Jewels
Suited to these and these knots: o' my life Sir,
She fears your curious eye will soon discover else:
Why stand ye still, why gape ye on one another?
Did I not bid ye go, and tell my Daughter?
Are ye nailed here? nor stir? nor speak? who am I,
And who are you?
1 Lord. Pardon me, gracious Lady,
The fear to tell you that you would not hear of
Makes us all dumb, the Princess is gone, Madam.
Dutch. Gone? whither gone? some wiser fellow answer me.
2 Lord. We sought the Court all over, and believe Lady
No news of where she is, nor how convey'd hence.
Dutch. It cannot be, it must not be.
1 Lord. 'Tis true, Madam,
No room in all the Court, but we search'd through it,
Her women found her want first, and they cry'd to us.
Dutch. Gone? stol'n away? I am abus'd, dishonour'd.
Sy. 'Tis I that am abus'd, 'tis I dishonour'd.
Is this your welcome, this your favour to me?
To foist a trick upon me, this trick too,
To cheat me of my love? Am I not worthy?
Or since I was your guest, am I grown odious?
Dutch. Your Grace mistakes me, as I have a life, Sir.
Sy. And I another, I will never bear this,
Never endure this dor.